


Nowhere to Go But Down

by LittleGreenBudgie



Series: Unfulfilled Heart [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenBudgie/pseuds/LittleGreenBudgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He threw his life away over a "why."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _When there's no good answers_  
>  _To those new questions_  
>  _Another personal disaster_  
>  _There's nowhere to go but down..._  
>  \-- _Until I Fall Away_ , Gin Blossoms

                His victim was a branded traitor, fourteen and already a turncoat, and for the better part of a week, she had kept his jaws from her throat.  Jaffar was the best in the business, though, blazing a gunpowder-trail through corruption and abuse of power, and no amount of trickery would throw him off her scent.  She could run her whole life, never sleeping the same place twice, and still he would find her.

                As it was, Jaffar didn’t need to wait a lifetime to track her down.  Nino wasn’t close to the only street kid in Bern, but she still wore her Black Fang tags around her neck and she still carried her gun.  A few quiet inquiries whispered to the right ears directed him to her, and then all he had to do was wait for the right opportunity.  He had staved off her execution before, when she hid under the overhang of the Bern City Bank, for there were a thousand witnesses and any one of them could turn him in.  He had let her live when she slept in the tunnel of the elementary school playground, for the police hung around like a murder of crows and he didn’t dare risk those odds.  Nino made a mistake, though, when she hid under the overpass along the banks of the Heimat River, and so he stalked her to the edge of town like a vengeful spirit and settled in to wait.  Jaffar never moved too rashly; he hunted like a hawk, perfectly still on a branch until his prey looked away a second too long, then his talons bit into them.

                It wouldn’t be long with her, though; Nino slept fitfully, wrapped in misery and a dog blanket, her back to him.  Several of the poor, the homeless, the forgotten, huddled in the same area, but Jaffar couldn’t foresee trouble from any of them.  Most were Sacaen, their slanted eyes flickering suspiciously to him, but no one stared long at those with guns.  To a one, they turned and pretended they’d never seen him, never seen the poor girl that he crept up behind, gun in hand.

                That was when he made his first mistake: he hesitated.  Jaffar, the Angel of Death, the Black Fang’s greatest hitman, stopped cold when faced with a tiny teenager.  Previously, he had reason to delay her death, but under the overpass, away from any consequence and excuse, he still paused.  The half-healed stab wound under his ribs stung as if reminding him of his own shortcomings.  Nino had saved his life once, dragging him into a warehouse and bandaging his wounds when anyone else would have gutted him and taken his place.  Honor demanded that he trade a life for a life.

                Honor also said that it was the cleaner’s job to put down a rogue comrade, not his.  Of course, the cleaner had reneged on his honor a long time ago when he abandoned the Black Fang, and the Angel of Death never had any need for honor besides.

                _Then why am I hesitating?_ Jaffar thought.  _I have orders.  I am to kill._

                Instead, he made his second mistake: he shook her awake.

                Even with her mind hazy and sleep-drunk, Nino fumbled for her gun and struggled for a fight.  It was not a long one.  Jaffar had three years and eighty pounds on her, and he had her in a chokehold in an instant, his gun to her temple.

                “Don’t move,” he said.

                “Jaffar?” she asked, voice doubtful, hopeful, a half dozen things he couldn’t read.

                “You have betrayed the Black Fang.  You know the penalty for your crime,”

                If she had fought him, kicked, hit, yelled, he would have killed her in a second.  He had a tiger’s hunting instinct in him, and he would have been unable to deny his nature.  Nino instead went very still, silent for so long Jaffar wondered if she’d died from fright and done the job for him.

                “I won’t resist,” she said after a long while.

                It was then that he made his third mistake: he cared.

                “Why did you do it?” he asked.

                He threw his life away over that “why.”

                “He was innocent,” Nino said.  “Zephiel, I mean.  He’s not even my age!  He never did anything wrong!  My brothers said we never kill someone unless they’re bad, so I didn’t.”

                “Foolish,” Jaffar replied, but he couldn’t pull the trigger.  He was barely seventeen, but even so, she was so, so young.  His was a seventeen made of the smell of blood and the feel of a weapon in his palm, of soft footsteps and hard eyes.  She only knew guns from the firing range and from the toys her brothers let her play with, knew murder from the heroic stories they told, and it made her seem a dragon’s age younger than him.  Too young to have been given that job in the first place.  Too inexperienced.  The Zephiel job was the most important the Fang had; why had Sonia sent a barely-trained girl to do it instead of him?

                “Jaffar?”

                He let her go and holstered his gun.

                “Come.  We cannot stay.”

                She grabbed her gun and her ratty blanket and followed him without protest.  Nino trusted him—Jaffar couldn’t wholly understand why.  He could be leading her into a trap, or moving somewhere more discreet.  He could be returning her to the Fang so their full righteous fury could crash down upon her head.  Yet she followed at his heels without even the paltry safety of a drawn gun.

                “I hope you aren’t doing anything dangerous for me,” she said.

                He couldn’t honestly reply.  His life was already over.  It had ended when he’d been stabbed in the side a week and a half ago, ended when he woke up, very much alive, with Nino’s hands tying off his bandages.  Jaffar had been living on borrowed time since, and he knew that would be cut short sooner or later.  Danger meant nothing to him.

                “Why were you chosen to kill the prince?” he asked.

                “Mother said it was because I was her daughter,” she replied, “and so I could be one of the best Fang members one day. She said she believed in me.”

                “It was a set-up,” Jaffar said simply, and he knew it was the truth the second the words passed his lips.

                “No, you must be mistaken.  Mother said—“

                “I asked for the job.  Sonia said she needed me too much for it,” he cut in.

                “Where are we going?  I want to see Mother,” Nino said, digging in her heels.

                “Nino—“

                “I have to know!  You’ve got to be wrong!”

                “She sent me after you.  If you want to live, your questions will have to wait.”

                She subsided into sullen silence, but she still followed him.  He liked that about her; she was smart enough to formulate her own opinions, rejecting the clockwork obedience that was all he had ever known, but she was also smart enough to listen when her life hung in the balance.  Jaffar could see her becoming deadly one day, that handgun of hers painting cold justice across all of Bern.  Of course, that relied on her living long enough to tell of it, and that was where he came in.

                He led her to a little alley between a fishery and a shipping warehouse.  His motorcycle leaned against the wall, but he didn’t worry for it; the angular Black Fang symbols painted along the sides scared off any would-be thieves, and the Fang had enough money to throw around to get him another if he needed it.  Jaffar couldn’t rely on that anymore, though, but that was a concern for a later day.  He swung a leg over his bike and looked over at Nino.

                “Are we running away?” she asked.

                He nodded.

                “Where will we go?”

                “It doesn’t matter.”

                She smiled stiffly and climbed up after him.  His bike was not built for two, had never carried two, but Nino slid easily into the space behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist.  He couldn’t help but stiffen at the contact, but he reasoned that he could perhaps get used to it.

                That was when Ursula stepped out of the shadows.

                “What exactly are you doing, Angel of Death?”

                Jaffar’s eyes flickered behind her, to the rooftops, behind the trashcans.  He could see the shadows of people everywhere he looked.  He cursed himself for being so careless as to let anyone sneak up on him.

                “Sonia said you were taking too long, so I came to see if something had finally managed to slow you down.  Who would’ve guessed that you, of all people, would go soft?”

                He could feel Nino shifting behind him, trying to go for her gun.

                Jaffar keyed the engine before she could put them in danger, and with a pair of shots, took out the men on the roof.  The roar of his engine cut out anything else Ursula had to say, then he was careening down the streets.

                “We have the lead now, but we won’t for long,” he said, hunching lower over the handlebars in an effort to reduce air resistance.

                “I know,” Nino replied.  “We should head for the border.  They’ll have less power in Ilia.”

                “Not Ilia.  We’ll never make it.”

                “Lycia, then.  It’s four hours away, right?”

                “Four and a half,” he said.  Hot adrenaline set in, filling his blood like lightning, and his eyes flickered to his mirrors.  Ursula’s blue car was already behind them, a couple of her associates pursuing on their own motorcycles.  She had her mobile phone sandwiched between ear and shoulder, and a gun in one hand.

                Jaffar turned into an alley, hoping the narrow street would deter Ursula in her bigger vehicle.  There were enough side roads that it wouldn’t keep her off his tail for too long, but it could at least delay the moment when someone started firing.

                Nino tightened her grip on him.

                “You should turn me over,” she said quietly.  “Then you’ll be okay.”

                He turned and took a shot at the Black Fang man behind them.  Jaffar wasn’t used to shooting with a passenger, though, and his bullet cracked harmlessly into the wall.  It at least gave his pursuer something to think about, though.

                “I am saving a life of worth.  That is all.”

                “Jaffar!”

                Her angry shout morphed into a squeak as he cut a tight turn back onto the street.  His pursuer matched him, taking a few shots of his own.  Nino shivered against Jaffar as the bullets whizzed by.

                “Do you have your gun?”

                “Yeah,” she said, “but I’ve never been on one of these before, and Lloyd never really finished teaching me…”

                He swung wide at the light, firing twice as he did.  The man behind him tumbled backwards, his bike crashing into a parked car.  Pedestrians stopped and stared, but no one called the police.  Bern’s government held a notorious laissez-faire attitude towards the Black Fang; it was the worst-kept secret in the province.  It meant that no one would interfere with their gang’s falling out, that no one would seize him and Nino, but it also meant that no one would offer them sanctuary or assistance.  They sorely needed it, too; Ursula had found them again, running them down like foxes, her sports car gaining on them at a frightening pace.

                “Can you outrun her?”

                “No.”

                “Oh,” she breathed.  Her heartbeat thudded like machine gun fire, hard enough for him to feel it, and he grit his teeth.  Maybe it would have been better to kill her in her sleep, swift and painless, sparing her the panic that made her fingers bite into his sides and her breath come quick and shallow.

                He cracked Ursula’s windscreen with a shot, then cut through a parking garage.  His bike squealed in protest as he ramped it onto the curb and past the toll gate.  Jaffar’s thoughts chased each other in circles as he drove higher and higher in the building.  Ursula couldn’t follow without paying for parking, and that would slow her down enough to lose them.  They couldn’t get out without ditching his motorcycle, though.  If it was just him, Jaffar knew he would be all right.  He could pick off Ursula’s men one by one, disappearing into the shadows, sparking fear in their hearts.  He could jump onto the upper railing and use the fire escape across the way to go to ground, then slink away in the crowds.  But Nino moved too slowly, too loudly, her aim too unreliable, and she would never make it.

                “We can’t park,” Nino said.  “No time.  Mustn’t waste what we have.”

                _We might have to,_ he thought.  _We’re living for the next minute, nothing more.  Anything that buys us that is good enough._

                “What about the service entrance?” she asked as he chanced another glance behind them.  Nothing in sight, but he could hear the engine of Ursula’s car a level down.

                “Hm?”

                “The service entrance.  They bring the cops and stuff through there.  They’ve got a ramp up to all the levels in case of fires and all.”

                Jaffar’s eyes darted to where she pointed—an unadorned door with chipped paint and a clunky lock.  He fired a few rounds at the hinges and watched the door sag pathetically.

                It still took the wind out of him and crumpled the front of his bike when they crashed through it.  He could feel the bruises forming along his arms and chest, but he seemed to have shielded Nino from the worst of it.  The shouts of the Fang behind them hadn’t fallen too far behind, but it was another moment that they still breathed, so he would take it.  His pistol was out of ammo, though, and he holstered it with one hand as they spiraled down the ramp.

                “Give me your gun,” he said.

                “It’s an Elfire .45.  Is that okay?” she asked as she clumsily passed it to him.

                Not his ideal, but serviceable.  He chambered a round with one hand and cocked it, his fingers wrapping around the grip.  It was hard and unyielding; Nino clearly hadn’t used it enough to leave her own mark on it.  Jaffar favored a simple KE 9mm.  Quick, quiet, concealable.  The Elfire was clunky and bigger than he was used to, but it wouldn’t throw off his aim, and it wouldn’t spare their enemies.

                They tore back onto the streets, racing down the road.  He wove in and out of cars like a true Bern citizen, ignoring their honks and yells.

                “The Black Fang markings on your bike give us away.  Do you think they’ll be a problem?”

                He looked down at the tattoos on his upper arms, branding him as property of the Black Fang, property of Nergal.

                “Perhaps.”

                “I still have my tags.  They kept some thugs from roughing me up when I was on the run.  Maybe they’ll help us out now, too.”

                Jaffar didn’t reply, focusing on the drive.  The crooked streets of outer Bern were often too narrow for double-lane traffic, so it took quite a bit of finagling to navigate them at any reasonable pace.  He could go faster in the inner city, where the governmental buildings lined the roads and everything was built on a perfect grid in typical Bernese efficiency, but that would give Ursula and her cadre more room to maneuver.  He skidded up onto the sidewalk to dodge a big pickup, and ducked into a side street.

                “Have we lost them?” Nino asked.

                “No,” he said.  “Blue Crow is going to try to cut us off.  The woman on the motorcycle behind us is tracking our movements.”

                “Then we’ll have to be unpredictable,” Nino said.  Jaffar was relieved to feel her grip loosening a little, to hear some of the wobble leave her voice.  She was truly a Reed at heart—it just took a healthy spark of danger to make her realize her potential.  Perhaps he’d worried too soon.

                A bullet cracked into the headlight of the car behind them, and Jaffar swallowed his brief sense of security.  He turned back and took a shot of his own, but it only clipped the woman’s handlebars.  It still made her swerve to the left, sideswiping a green car.

                “We should head to the harbor,” Nino said suddenly.  “If we can get across the bridge into West Bern, we might be okay.  My brother is supposed to be working out there.  He’ll help.”

                _He’ll help you, at least,_ Jaffar thought as he turned off towards Heulen Street.  _If it is Linus, I am a dead man.  He has no love for me.  Lloyd might heed Nino’s pleas and spare me, but the Mad Dog never would._

Nino’s life was all that mattered, though.  If he could buy her freedom and safety with his own, he would in a heartbeat.

                “Can you call him?”

                “My mobile’s dead.  I’ve been out here for almost a week.  What about yours?”

                He fed his bike more gas as they hit Heulen Street.  It was a two-laner, as was the bridge, and it was a long stretch of road.  Jaffar could only pray that Ursula had lost their trail.

                “I don’t carry one.  No one has need to contact me.”

                “I’m sorry,” she said, but he couldn’t reply; he could see Ursula’s car in the mirror, her right-hand man, Maxime, pointing an ugly snub-nosed rifle at them.  His first shot missed, and they sped onto the bridge.  Jaffar shot back twice, but he only cracked the glass and dented the hood.  He wove to the side, putting a black truck between Ursula and them, but she gained on him, slowly and surely.  There was too much road before the end of the bridge.  He fired another shot back at the car, taking out a headlight.

                Maxime shut an eye, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

                Their back wheel sparked and then popped.  Jaffar turned and held Nino tight as the bike skidded, letting out a scream of rubber on asphalt, before they crashed into the railing.  It hit him like a charging rhino, drawing a low moan from his throat, and then, as if in slow motion, he felt them tumble over the top.

                Eighty feet straight down into the freezing Bernese harbor.  Jaffar took a gulp of air, held Nino to him, and braced himself for impact.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Did you see the sky?_  
>  _I think it means that we've been lost_  
>  _Maybe one less time is all we need_  
>  _I can't really help it if my tongue's all tied in knots_  
>  _Jumping off a bridge, it's just the farthest that I've ever been_  
>  \-- _Follow You Down_ , Gin Blossoms

                They crashed through the water like bullets through glass.  Nino gasped with pain, and immediately took in a lungful of briny water.  Fear clawed up her throat, squeezed her chest.  The surface kept receding, making it harder and harder to stay oriented, everything a murky blur.  She kicked, but couldn’t make any progress.  Her lungs burned, but the rest of her tried to shut down from the cold.  Nino couldn’t find Jaffar, couldn’t find the surface, couldn’t keep a hold of her own thoughts.  They trickled out of her mind and dark brackish water flowed in.

                An arm grabbed her under the ribs and then she was gulping in fresh air.  Nino clung to Jaffar’s warm body like a burr, coughing up water and sucking in air, filthy and cold as frostbite, but alive.  They both shivered as he treaded water, clothes plastered to their skin and loose pants tangling with their legs.

                “I can’t swim,” she said as her heartbeat raced, her grip on him panic-tight.

                “Arms around my neck,” he said.  His voice went weak at the edges, exhaustion slipping in through the chinks in his adrenaline.  Nino felt a stab of guilt, but she still maneuvered onto his back and slid her arms around him.  She had to fight to keep her grip loose, even as she coughed up seawater and shivered violently.  The heat pocketed between her and Jaffar was more than welcome.  Still, they couldn’t wait out there forever; the people on the bridge peered over the edge, as small as dolls, and she knew Ursula and Maxime were still up there.

                “They’re splitting up,” Jaffar said in a low voice.

                “We need to go to shore,” she said.  “They probably think we’re dead.”

                “No,” Jaffar replied.  “They know that a fall like that wouldn’t kill me.”

                “Oh,” she murmured.  Her brothers always said that she was a genius, but she couldn’t think of any answer that didn’t end in their deaths.  Jaffar had done all the work up until that point—he was still doing all the work, swimming like a tiger, head above the water and her clinging to him, useless dead weight.  The going was slow, even strong as he was, and the harbor bit like an arctic wolf’s fangs.  Nino’s teeth chattered and she shook head to toe.

                “Do you still have my gun?” Nino asked.

                “No.”

                “Oh.  That’s all right.  We’ll…We’ll be fine, right, Jaffar?”

                He was silent for a long moment, only the great puffs of his heavy breathing audible over the squawking gulls and the sounds of the city.

                “You will be as safe as I can manage,” he said finally.

                She huddled against him, muscles frozen in place, fingers threaded in an icicle-grip.  Nino couldn’t feel much any longer, just the heat captured between her and Jaffar, and she couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt, sleepless and swimming and half-starved.

                “If they know we’re alive, they’ll be watching the docks, waiting for you to head there.  We can’t go over that way or they’ll catch us.”

                He made a quiet sound of agreement.

                _We can’t meet up with Lloyd like this,_ she thought.  _He’ll have moved on before we can get to West Bern.  If we can get to a pay phone, we might be able to call him….But that’s a lot to hope for, and Jaffar needs to rest.  We’ll need new clothes, too, to hide better.  Where can we wait for a bit, until the search dies down?_

                Her eyes wandered to the sails and rigging of the ships around the docks.

                “Hey, Jaffar?”

                “Hm?”

                “We should try to stow away on one of those boats for a little bit.  We can steal some clothes and maybe catch a nap, then move out once it’s nighttime.”

                He didn’t say anything, but he swam with greater urgency.  Nino could see the people waiting by the dock, the hubbub of tourists and sailors and longshoremen and shady figures that could be Black Fang or anyone else.  She suddenly realized the extent of the situation she’d gotten them into, the realization that anyone could be against them, that there was quite literally nowhere they could go that the Black Fang could not follow, and that scared her more than the chase and the gunfire had.

                They clambered on board the first boat they reached, for Jaffar’s breath was coming in labored pants and they were both so cold that they couldn’t stay in the water any longer.  Her hands slipped numbly on the ladder rungs, fingers freezing up, and then Jaffar was steadying her, the two of them tumbling over the ladder and onto the deck of a small private yacht.  Jaffar lay still for a moment, eyes shut and chest heaving.  Nino didn’t want to move him, burnt-out though he was, but someone might still see them, so she took his hand and pulled him to his feet.  He followed her like a tame wolf as she snuck belowdecks.

                There wasn’t much space, but it looked a hell of a lot better than grimy cement under an overpass.  Rich wood paneled the walls and floor, with a couple photographs of smiling people displayed between the portholes.  There only seemed to be two rooms: a kitchen area, with a refrigerator, a granite counter, a couple cabinets, and a table with two chairs, and a bedroom area, with little more than a bunk nailed to the wall, an armchair, and a bookcase.  Jaffar shed his wet shirt and pants (although he kept his underwear on, to Nino’s relief) and climbed onto the bed, curling up with his back to the wall.  She smiled and left the room; he had more than done his part, and now it was her turn to help out.

                It didn’t take her long to scrounge for supplies.  There wasn’t much to take in the little boat, but Nino managed to find two sets of spare clothing, a change of sheets, a bag of pretzels, and some bottles of cherry soda.  The clothes looked a little too small for Jaffar, and far too big for her, but they didn’t have the luxury of being choosy. 

                After a few minutes, they were both dressed and at least somewhat fed.  The pretzels wouldn’t sate their hunger for more than a few hours, but they gave Jaffar some much-needed calories, and would take the edge off of Nino’s ravenous appetite.  Of the clothes, only a large sweatshirt could fit Jaffar, and even then his muscles threatened to tear it along the shoulders, though it did have the advantage of hiding his tattoos.  He was still far from nondescript, tall and built as he was, his hair a distinct red and skin unusually brown for Bern, but it was a start.  Nino, meanwhile, felt like she had been wrapped in a small tent, the shirt hanging nearly to her knees and the jeans trying their best to wriggle their way to freedom.

                Still, she was warm, fed, and in good company.  She couldn’t quite bring herself to leave Jaffar’s side, so when he settled down to sleep, she curled up against him.  He didn’t even start at her touch, which made her smile.  The gentle rocking of the ship lulled them both to sleep within moments.

 

* * *

 

                The sound of someone shouting shocked Nino awake.

                “Who are you?”

                She blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes, looking up at the boat’s owner.  He was young, maybe Jaffar’s age, with cardinal-red hair and a distinct Lycian accent.  Either he just didn’t look threatening at all, or Nino had already burned through her life’s supply of panic in a matter of hours, because she couldn’t feel fear setting in.  That, or she knew well enough that she could count on Jaffar; he was already on his feet, standing a little in front of her, as protective as one of the king’s bodyguards.  He stood a good ten centimeters above the Lycian man, and even unarmed, Jaffar was dangerous, skilled in wrestling styles from the Western Isles and street fighting from Badon, self-defense from Ilia and full-contact combat from Sacae.  If he wanted to, he could kill the boat’s owner barehanded before he could blink.

                There had been far too much killing lately, though, and Nino wondered if she could prevent any more.

                “Hi,” she said, smiling stiffly.  She grabbed blindly for any lie good enough to keep them safe.  “Um, I’m…Micaiah, and this is, uh, Sothe.  We’re just—we’re running away from home.  We’re really sorry, but we didn’t know what else to do.”

                She picked the first names that came to mind, but she nearly winced at the stupidity of them.  No one in their right mind would name their children either of those!  Jaffar picked up her cue, though, forcing a bad smile.  At least, that was what Nino thought he was doing—the assassin had bared all of his teeth like an angry dog.  The boat’s owner took a step back, eyes widening.

                “Our mother abused us,” Jaffar supplied.  Between his flat tone and toothy grimace, he could terrify the most street-hardened gangster in Bern, never mind one rich Lycian.  His eyes danced from Nino to Jaffar and back, taking in the dark bruises on both of them, and their general dirty, disheveled appearances.

                “I’m Eliwood Lyonell, but I’m afraid I don’t really know what I can do to help you.  I’m setting sail for Badon tomorrow morning, you must understand.”

                “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we could come with you,” Nino said.

                Eliwood paused, then nodded.

                “I suppose it’s the least I can do.  Very well, then.  You’re welcome to stay aboard _Elbert’s Pride_ until we dock again.”

                “Thank you!  Thank you very much!” Nino said.  They weren’t out of the lion’s den yet, but she was confident that she and Jaffar could keep up the ruse of two sad runaways.  It was close enough to the truth, anyway, wasn’t it?  They _were_ homeless and helpless, trying to flee the country as quickly as possible, and if Jaffar’s suspicions were right, her mother was the cause of all of it.  The thought slid down her throat like a sea urchin, sharp and awful.  She could think about her mother later, though, and try to learn a bit more of the truth when they docked.

                “I’m afraid quarters are tight, but I suppose you knew that when you climbed up here, right?”

                “If there’s anything we can help you with, we’d be glad to.  Right, Sothe?” Nino said with a smile and a nod.

                Jaffar made a quiet noise of agreement.

                “Well, okay,” Eliwood said doubtfully.

                “Can I talk to my brother for a few minutes?  This is just really great news!  It changes everything!”

                He nodded, but his eyes followed them as they headed abovedecks, and his brow was furrowed.  As they stood at the top of the stairs, Nino counted one hippopotamus, two hippopotamus, until she was sure that Eliwood wasn’t following them, before she shut the door.  The night air was even colder than it had been during the day, with a sea breeze whistling by them, salty and brisk.  On the docks, most of the activity had calmed down, but people still moved cargo and tended to late-coming ships.  The city’s lights shone in ramshackle dots against the blackness.

                “I’ve lived my whole life here.  It’s so weird to leave it,” Nino said.

                “It’s only a place.  I have been to many.  You can die just as easily in Bern as you can in Nabata.”

                “I know.  Mustn’t be too sentimental, right, Jaffar?  Oh, I guess I can’t call you that here.  I figured we shouldn’t use our real names, just in case.”

                “No, you did well,” he said, and Nino glowed with pride at the praise.  “He doesn’t trust us.”

                “I wouldn’t, either.  He probably thinks we’re going to rob him or kill him.  Or both.  Either way, it’s good fortune, right?  We’ve shaken Ursula and are on our way to freedom.  Things can only look up from here.”

                “They’ll still be looking for us wherever we go.”

                “Right, which is why we’re going to call my brothers when we get there,” she said.  “Lloyd and Linus will tell Father and they’ll set everything straight.  You’ll see.”

                Jaffar was quiet for a while.  She couldn’t begin to guess what kind of thoughts ran through his head, but she held her tongue and waited for him to speak his mind.

                “The Black Fang’s corruption may run deeper than you think,” he settled.

                “Well, maybe…But my brothers and father are definitely not a part of it!  They’ll help us out as soon as they know we need it, and if they have to, I guess they can just come live with us in Lycia.”

                “What about Hurricane?”

                “Uncle Legault?  I don’t know.  I haven’t seen him since he left.”

                “Smart man.”

                Nino nodded.  In truth, she wished she could find him.  Her brothers were the best fighters besides Jaffar, and they could keep them safe, but no one hid like her uncle.  He could disappear in plain sight, or go to ground and mingle with anyone, no matter what city or province he found himself in.  He made fake IDs and fake lives with equal skill.  Legault’s talents were of utmost importance to fugitives like them…that, and Nino just plain missed him.  She didn’t even know why he had deserted.  Maybe it was for the same reasons she had.  Maybe he, too, had been tasked with needlessly murdering an innocent, and he, too, found himself unable to pull the trigger.  She didn’t know, and likely would never know.  All she could do was hope that he’d done well for himself, wherever he’d gone.

                Nino wondered what sort of things Legault would look for if he were in their situation.  A temporary shelter was all well and good, but she would need an eye for the future to survive like her uncle.

                “I don’t have any money,” she said at last, unable to think of anything more immediate.  “Will that be a problem?”

                “No.  I have some.”

                “Okay.  You’re going to need to keep wearing long sleeves, though.  Eliwood mustn’t see your tattoos,” she said.  Her Black Fang tags still hung around her neck, under her shirt, but those were far easier to hide than the marks emblazoned on Jaffar’s upper arms.

                He tensed, reaching for a gun he didn’t have any longer.  Nino followed his eyes, only to see Eliwood peeking out of the stairwell.

                “I came up to see if everything was okay, and I’m afraid I overheard some of your conversation,” he said.  He didn’t sound apologetic at all.  To his credit, he also hadn’t reached for any weapon, and he looked more wary than aggressive.  Jaffar still interposed himself between him and Nino with quicksilver grace, one foot forward and one back in a pose that he could use to launch into any of a dozen strikes.

                “Why would I be worried about tattoos?” Eliwood asked.  “I know you said you two came from a bad home.  I don’t judge people for the circumstances of their birth.”

                Jaffar hesitated, then took off the sweatshirt, handing it back to its owner.  The sharp, angular Black Fang symbols stood out in stark black against his brown skin, like stripes on a jungle cat, and his powerful muscles made him look even bigger than he was.  Dark bruises overlaid old scars.  Nino thought that he would fit right in alongside Badon’s infamous pirates, tough and shirtless on the deck of a ship.

                Eliwood didn’t flinch back or even show any signs of fear.  It struck Nino that he wasn’t from Bern, and so couldn’t know that much about the Black Fang.  He wouldn’t know their symbols or their nicknames, know to avoid buildings with those same geometric shapes in the windows, know to avoid anywhere graffitied with a white wolf or a blue crow.  They might be truly safe on the deck of that boat, like they wouldn’t be anywhere else.

                “What do they mean?  Are those Sacaen designs?”

                “No.  They’re Bernese, from a long time ago,” Jaffar said.

                “Yeah.  Everyone in our family has them, except me,” Nino added.  She didn’t say that they meant equal parts vengeance and honor, the streets’ version of martial law.

                “I see,” Eliwood said in a tone that disapproved of minors and tattoos.

                “I mean, we both were adopted, sort of.  My brother lost both parents, and I lost my dad.  Then Mother remarried and we got two more brothers, but they’re older and already out of the house, so they’re okay.  We’re trying to meet back up with them,” she said.  It was as close to the truth as she could get.

                “I wish you luck.  We should probably head back belowdecks, though.  It’s too cold out here to stand around.”

                He held the door open, smiling.  Jaffar didn’t go in, though, looking back at Nino.  She grinned and headed in first.  She knew that he wasn’t being polite—the Angel of Death had no need for paltry gestures of courtesy.  No, he was keeping himself between her and Eliwood in case things got ugly.  Neither of them had weapons anymore, after all, so if Eliwood suddenly pulled a gun or blade on them, Jaffar could handle himself better than she could.  In the cramped space belowdecks, he could cross the distance between them in a second and wrestle Eliwood into submission.

                Not that Nino was terribly worried.  She didn’t believe Eliwood would try to attack them, nor did she believe he would be stupid enough to pull steel on Jaffar.  Even if his true identity wasn’t known, Jaffar still looked more than capable of killing.

                “I can put down some blankets for you, but I’m afraid the ship only has one bed.”

                “That’s okay.  We’re used to sleeping on the floor.”

                Jaffar nodded, coming to lean against the counter.  Nino, in turn, moved towards the closet that Eliwood had indicated.  She realized belatedly that she had already taken out the blankets in her earlier search for supplies, so she slipped back into the bedroom.

                “We will sleep now,” Jaffar said calmly.  Eliwood’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, but he nodded nonetheless.

                “We set sail tomorrow morning.  If you don’t mind rising with the sun, I could use some extra hands.”

                “Sure thing!” Nino said.

                He walked off towards his room, not sparing them a backwards glance.  Nino didn’t doubt that he would lock up his valuables and poke his head out every now and then to make sure that they were asleep and not causing trouble, but she didn’t mind much.  She and Jaffar curled up under a blanket, his bare skin warm against her.  He didn’t move to throw his arm around her or anything of the sort; he lay still as Nino listened to his steady breathing and his slow, calm words.

                “We’re going to be okay, huh, Jaffar?”

                “I think we will,” he said.

                “If we can’t get back to the Black Fang, what will we do?”

                “I’ll find work.  I can lift heavy weights and work long hours.  There is always need for people like that.”

                “And I’ll work with you!”

                “No,” he said immediately.  “You will go to school.”

                “What?  No, I don’t have to!  I’ve never been to school, ever, and neither have my brothers, and look at them!  I want to stay and help you!”

                “Lycian laws mandate schooling for minors,” he said.  “I can pass for eighteen.  You cannot.”

                “Why do we have to listen to that?  You’ve never let anyone tell you what to do!” she pleaded.

                She felt stupid right after saying it—Jaffar’s life had been nothing but the next mission, the next mark, the next batch of Nergal’s orders.  He didn’t move to correct her or chastise her, though, and he didn’t tease her like her brothers or uncle would.  Jaffar didn’t fit into the ramshackle family she had built for herself, now that she thought about it.  He was something else entirely, and the thought of him staying with her made her heart give a big messy “whump” in her chest.

                “If we break the law so casually, someone might find us.  I cannot justify that risk.  I cannot promise that we will live well, at first, but I can promise you that it will be safe,” he said.  His tone brooked no disagreement.

                She nodded and huddled closer to him.  It wasn’t worth mentioning that she couldn’t read a word of Etrurian, or that her education had been cobbled together from whatever her “aunts” and “uncles” were willing to talk about.  She could recite the history of all the tribes of Sacae and knew all the niceties needed when meeting any of them, but she didn’t know much more about Bern than what she’d lived.  She could break into a man’s house and leave unnoticed, or hotwire a car, or steal someone’s wallet, but she didn’t know how to write a resume or do her times tables.  It would be hard trying to adjust to Lycian schools, and someone would surely ask what she’d been doing for the past fourteen years, but with the ship rocking gently under her and Jaffar’s breathing quiet and regular, she could worry about it another day.

                “Promise me you won’t leave me, okay?” she said quietly.

                “I promise.”

                She smiled and shut her eyes.

                “Then that’s good enough for me.”


End file.
